Harry Potter and the Dance of the Thestral
by Hudly
Summary: The war is over, Voldemort is vanquished, and Harry Potter has survived. But Harry isn't happy. That is why he has decided to fix the outcome of the war: before it can be started. This time everything will be right...
1. The White Veil

**:Harry Potter and the Dance of the Thestral:**

**:Chapter One:**

**:The White Veil:**

**(A/N):** This story has been a baby of mine for quite a while. I've tried to keep a steady writing pace for it even though I'm busy with college and work. I'll try as hard as I can to keep it going. And for anyone who has read what I've done so far with Rectitude and Recrudescence, they are officially on _hiatus. _I'm crying inside._  
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_**----**__  
_

The snow fell heavily onto the charred ground, masking the blackness. The gusts of wind sent waves of snow to and fro, chilling anyone who would step out into the blizzard to the bone. The wind's relentless whistle continued as the snow engulfed the trees. The effervescent glow made the landscape a surrealistic tableau.

A lone figure could be seen trudging through the knee deep snow drifts. The figure was holding a dark cloak tightly around his body, presumably to keep warm. The figure stopped, crouched, and stared at an aged ruin, possibly a temple or castle. The figure stood there, letting loose of the cloak, letting it whip and snap in the wind. The figure took something out of one of the cloak's pockets, and threw it into the main section of the ruin. The figure then stood up, tightened his cloak, and began the laborious snow trudging once again.

After twenty minutes of steady travel, the figure stopped at a peculiar tree. The figure stood there for a moment, then instigated his journey again. The figure went straight toward a white wall, clearly a low cliff. As if by magic, the figure walked straight through the wall, and disappeared.

What at first glance looked like a low cliff was truly a forest. The trees were covered in a thick blanket of pure white, concealing the paths. The mystery figure continued his march, going faster than before, thanks to the cover of thick trees. The forest floor was still covered in snow, making it nearly impossible to navigate; but the figure kept a steady pace, making turns where he felt necessary, as if he knew the forest inside and out.

The figure came into a clearing. Walking straight into the middle, he collapsed.

Footprints began forming in the snow, headed in a straight path to the unconscious figure. The footprints were shaped like horse hooves, but the horse was not visible. Something was amiss.

The footprints stopped within five feet of the figure. Hours passed as the white maelstrom continued. Eventually, the snow dissipated and the clouds rolled by, revealing a clear, starlit night. The moon was full, and the stars glistened, sharing their light with the snow covered ground. The snow looked like shining diamond dust, sitting still in the cold night.

The footprints were all covered by the snow now, except for the last four. Except now, the snow was covering whatever invisible animal was standing there. The seemingly levitating snow piles gave shape to a strange sight.

The snow clung to the animal, showing its slender body, its ethereal legs, and bony hind quarters. But the most peculiar aspect of the invisible creature was the narrow wings protruding from right before the creature's ribcage. If it was visible, it would be a sight to behold.

Suddenly, the figure stirred. While the snow had fallen, it had covered the figure with nearly two feet of snow. The figure continued to break from the thick snow, rolling his body as much as possible, to loosen the snow. Finally, the figure broke through, first with his arms, then his hood-covered head appeared from the pure white mound.

After freeing himself from the white prison nature had provided him, the figure turned his head to the invisible creature. For ten minutes, the figure stood there, lifelessly staring straight at where the creature's face should be. Then, as suddenly as a flash of lightning, the figure whispered something to the creature.

The creature responded by flapping its wings, shaking itself from anymore snow. Once again invisible, except for the trail of footprints, it proceeded to walk toward the figure. Standing like a statue, the figure waited for the approaching being.

The figure spoke to the invisible creature with a soft voice, which garnered a snort from the animal; its warm breath showed itself in the frigid air. The figure knelt down in front of the creature, as if begging it for some sort of service.

The creature snorted again, and, by the sound, one could tell it started stomping its feet. The animal then let out an echoing neigh that reverberated through the forest and hills. The snow seemed to glimmer brighter than ever, while the moon kept its barrage of moonlight on the ground. The stars seemed to flicker as the creature could be heard flying about the clearing; its wings pushing the air while disturbing the fine powder mounds that the blizzard had formed.

The figure stood up, then looked to the moon. The figure cried out and cursed. The creature continued its circular flight pattern, neighing periodically. The figure collapsed again, but this time he was not unconscious, but sobbing. The cries could be heard for miles.

Suddenly, a light shown about the clearing, casting a chilling glow. The light came from the invisible creature as it furiously flapped its wings. The figure stopped sobbing and looked directly at the light. The figure stood there, following the creature's circular motion as if entranced. The figure didn't notice the strange light coming from the sky off yonder. It was the same chilling light that emanated from the invisible creature.

The other lights steadily approached the creature and the entranced figure. Finally, they arrived at the clearing. In lightning quick fashion, they integrated themselves into the circular path that the original creature was using. Now, by counting the light sources, there were fifteen creatures in all. The figure, however, only paid attention to the first creature.

The circular dance continued for hours, with the figure in the center constantly keeping focus on the first creature. Abruptly, all the creatures except for the first, changed the color of their light. All the creatures that changed the color changed it to dark red, reminiscent of lifeblood.

As soon as it had happened, the light disappeared. All that one could see was the lone figure, standing out in the barren clearing. The creatures had seemingly disappeared. The stars were still flickering furiously as if an astral light switch was being flicked off and on. The moon... The moon was blood red. The light from it showed on the snow, now like powdered blood.

Then the sky went dark.

There was no light. No stars, no moon, no lamps, no lighthouses, no cars, no flashlights, not even the mischievous sparkle in a person's eyes. There was only darkness.

The figure could be heard removing his cloak. He was muttering to himself as he fumbled with his coat.

Then they appeared.

The fifteen creatures, now fully visible. All fifteen of them were on fire of the most tenuous kind. They were alight with black fire. Their blazing eyes were as white as pure heat. They all gazed intently at the figure in the center. The fire gave no light the the surrounding, only illuminating themselves and the figure. They were cut off from prying eyes, so that their secret would forever be hidden.

The creatures, which were like spindly horses with wings, stood on their hind legs and flapped their wings. Then, in unison, they neighed toward the figure, and shot out a gray light from their cores. They all hit the figure in the chest, vaporizing him. All that was left was billowing smoke and a dark scorch mark that melted the snow. The light returned, and the creatures once again were invisible. They could be heard flying away one by one off into the night. After the fourteen extra creatures left, the initial creature took flight. It passed over the forest, flew over a large, frozen lake, soared over the ruin, and glided over a desolate village.

During its chilling flight, it thought to itself in its divine voice, '_Good luck, my friend.'_

* * *

_'This will be interesting,'_ thought Father Time as he heard the familiar ring of the bell hanging from the fireplace. Getting up from his old oak chair, he looked at the cloaked figure sprawled out on the floor. 

"Another young one," he sighed to himself.

Father Time dug into his pocket and pulled out his gold pocket watch. He opened up the watch and checked the time. Once again sighing, he walked over to a bookshelf that was set in the wall opposite the fireplace. Taking his finger and attempting to pinpoint the book he was looking for, he squinted and scanned the thousands of titles neatly nestled on the shelves. Finding the book, he took it, went back to his desk, and sat back down in his chair.

Grasping a pen, Father Time opened the book and searched the pages for something. He could be heard mumbling under his breath. The book, titled _Time Volume H_, was over seven thousand pages, and, as far as one could tell, not structured in any definable way. Finding the entry he wanted, Father Time took the pen he was still grasping and scribbled something inside it.

Setting his pen down, he slammed the book closed and went back to the bookshelf to return it. He then went to a door that was hidden behind an intricate white veil, and went inside. The veil, held above the door frame by a gold and silver pole, was made of an otherworldly material, its edges bordered with beautiful gold patterns, and a regal crest in the center.

The crest was a gold clock, surrounded by silver vines. The hands on the clock were embossed with a blue-silver color, making them seem mystical. The face was colored like wizened ivory, and the numbers were of the Roman numeral set, colored in a dull slate-grey. The hands were at midnight. Above the clock was a silver banner that read: _Tempus edax rerum._

It was Latin for "_Time, the devourer of all things."_

Clanging could be heard behind the door. Minutes later, a faint smell of fresh bread permeated the door and its veil. The smell aroused the figure out of unconsciousness and he stood up, taking in his surroundings.

He noticed the infinite number of clocks covering the walls. There were grandfather clocks, wall clocks, wristwatches, pocket watches, and even a few quaint cuckoo clocks. All of them were set to different times. An entire wall of clocks seemed to be dedicated to the twenty-four timezones, while another wall was dedicated to the month, and yet another to the day. There was also a very large clock that made up the ceiling. It, however, was not a normal clock.

On it, there were billions upon billions of small specs, each with their own hand. If one could magnify the hands, you would see faces. The faces of all the human population since the beginning of time until the present. Hands with faces were being added constantly. It was a marvel to see.

The figure dragged his gaze away from the immense clock and walked up to an old wooden desk. On the desk were books and pens and stray papers. More noticeably, however, was a very peculiar book. It was one a person could never find in a library. The cover was emerald green, the title of the book was enclosed by an intricate golden frame. The title was _The Life Twice Lived_. It was set into the cover, giving it unique shadows when held at different angles.

The figure slowly traced his fingers over the title, feeling the warmth radiating from the book. Opening the cover, the figure took a seat in an old oak chair in front of the desk. As the figure read the book, the clocks about the room continued in a rhythmic ticking, clanging and cuckooing at every hour. What seemed like days of reading finally ended, and the figure closed the book.

The figure sat up from the chair and turned toward the veil. He sighed to himself and straightened his cloak. Walking slowly toward the elaborate crest, the figure pulled something long and slender out of his cloak. Stopping face to face with the white veil, the figure pointed the thin object at the crest, and spoke in a low baritone, "I'm going home."

The figure disappeared in a flash of blue light. The veil flailed about as a rapid gush of wind whirled through the room. After a few moments, the room settled down and the veil ceased to flap about. Just as strangely as he had left, Father Time came out of the door behind the veil. Strolling back to the old oak table, he sat down. Lifting his eyes to the magnificent clock above him, he said in a whisper, "Good luck, my friend."


	2. Making Arrangements

**:Harry Potter and the Dance of the Thestral:**

**:Chapter Two:**

**:Making Arrangements:**

**----  
**

**(A/N):** I'm really enjoying this story. I plan for big things with it. And, for those who haven't been able to tell yet, I like a little bit of mystery.**  
**

**---- **

The old oak trees swayed in the night wind along the old country roads outside London. The moon was out in full force, silhouetting the trees and fences along the winding roadways. Suddenly, a burst of light shown through the countryside, startling all the creatures skulking in the night.

In a open area of the forest, a cloaked man lay sprawled out on the ground. He lay silent for several minutes, then the returning sounds of the nightlife stirred him to consciousness. He groaned and rose to his knees, as if kneeling to pray. He clenched his stomach as he screamed in pain. He proceeded to vomit profusely on the moonlit ground.

After the bile had receded from his throat, he stood upright and took in his surroundings. Sighing to himself, he started walking north, out of the forest. Trudging through the plush bushes and thickets seemed to wear heavily on the man, and soon he was panting as he navigated his way out of the forest.

Finally, he came upon a country road; an old farming access road, now in shambles from the lack of maintenance. Walking down the stringy road, the man shed his cloak to reveal a slim figure dressed in all black. His hair was just as black as his clothes, and his eyes were a shimmering emerald green. His skin was fairly tan, and his stride could be seen in its complete form. He seemed to possess an aura of confidence about him, owing to his nearly palpable determination.

Striding along the road, the man finally reached a small farm house. Stopping to take a small rest, the man looked down the road toward the outskirts of London. The lights were shimmering brilliantly in the night sky.

Catching his breath, the man resumed his journey toward London. A few hours later, the man came upon a suburb on the outside of London. Walking about the empty streets the man searched the street signs until he came upon a Privet Drive. Walking down the lane, the man stopped at a house: number 4 Privet Drive.

Walking up the drive, he smiled as he spotted an elderly lady across the street peering at him from her window. Ignoring the woman, the man walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. Lights in the house sprang to life as the occupants of the house awoke to the ringing doorbell. Suddenly, the front door opened to reveal a large man with an out-of-control mustache. The large man groggily looked at the stranger and boomed, "What is the meaning of this? It's 3 A.M.!"

"I've come to speak to Harry," replied the stranger, not fazed by the large man's ferocity.

"Harry? Who is that?" replied the man, clearly shaken by the stranger's inquiry.

"Don't lie to me, Vernon Dursley. I know about the nephew you keep in the closet under the stairs," replied the stranger in a monotone voice of aggression.

"Get out here, boy! There's someone to see you," yelled the man, fear evident by his uncontrollable shaking.

"Th-The door is lo-locked, Uncle," came a small, shaky voice from behind the large man. The man immediately turned around and waddled his way over to the closet under the stairs. He unlocked the door and opened it. Out stepped a skinny, pale boy, no more than seven years old. He was wearing old pajamas three sizes to large for his body. The boy looked shakily at the stranger with brilliant emerald green eyes behind broken glasses. The stranger gave a warming smile to Harry.

"Vernon," called the stranger. Vernon Dursley snapped to attention and went back to the stranger in the front doorway.

"I'm going to have a talk with Harry for a few moments, but I want to tell you this before I do: never, not once in the rest of your miserable life, are you to harm a hair on that boy's head. If you do, may God help you," spoke the man in a whisper that only Vernon could hear.

"Y-y-y-yes, s-sir," chattered Vernon as he shook involuntarily. The stranger turned away from Vernon and called for Harry. Harry broke out of his thoughts and began to follow the stranger.

"Let's go for a stroll along Privet Drive," spoke the stranger as Harry warily followed him. The stranger could see the elderly lady looking at them both. She rushed away from her window quicker than one would expect an elderly lady to move. '_I must hurry,_' thought the stranger.

"Harry, how old are you?" asked the stranger.

"T-Ten, sir," replied Harry. The stranger looked down at Harry and sighed.

"You've no reason to fear me, Harry. I'm going to be the best friend you'll ever have, at least for now," said the stranger as he smiled. "Believe it or not, I know what it feels like to be despised by your family. Just remember, the answers will come soon enough."

"What do you mean, sir?" asked a bedazzled Harry. Harry had never met someone as friendly as this stranger.

"In due time, Harry, in due time," replied the stranger as he and Harry found their way back to number 4 Privet Drive.

"Here, Harry, take this," said the stranger, handing Harry a strange wooden whistle, "Blow the whistle three times if you need help. Never let it leave your side. I'll come when the time is right."

"But sir-"

"No, no need to worry about anything now. Just concentrate on this one truth: when just the smallest bit of light shines in a dark room, the darkness flees before we see the difference. Just make sure that you don't let the servants of darkness snuff out the candle. Always, _always_ remember that." Just as soon as the stranger had finished speaking to Harry, three cloaked men appeared out of thin air. The three men raised long, slender objects like the stranger had done and pointed them at the stranger.

"Give us the boy, Death Eater," commanded one of the men.

"Excuse me, I'm just talking to the boy. I've meant him no harm. I was just seeing him off to his home," replied the stranger.

"Go eat a dungbomb, Death Eater!" yelled another man.

"Harry, go back inside your house, I'll see you sometime later," said the stranger, paying no mind to the three men threatening him. The stranger made sure that Harry made it inside, then turned to face the three men.

"This is your last warning, Death Eater. Leave now or suffer the consequences," said the third man.

"Take me to Dumbledore, please," said the stranger, as if the three men were his entourage.

"Excuse me?" said the man who seemed to be the leader of the group. "Why should we take you to Dumbledore?"

"Because if you don't, then popping up in his office uninvited would be more against my case," replied the stranger.

"You stay right there. I'm going to ask Dumbledore what he wants to do with you," said the leader. There was a loud POP and the man disappeared. Several minutes later the man returned, accompanied by a loud POP.

"Dumbledore will see you," said the man, now without the ferocity he had held previously. The stranger smirked at the change in the man's demeanor.

"Dumbledore said to let you enter alone," said the leader of the three men. All four of them had flooed from the old lady's floo. The stranger was still brushing the ashes off of himself.

The four men came up to a statue of a gargoyle in a long hall in what appeared to be a castle. The leader of the three men signaled the other two to a halt as they came upon the gargoyle statue. The man sighed and said, "Hershey's Milk Chocolate." The gargoyle started sliding aside revealing a hidden passageway.

"Hershey's? Isn't that an American candy?" asked the stranger.

"Dumbledore went to America on business a few months ago. He likes to sample the candy, particularly when it comes to Muggle candy," replied the man. The stranger laughed.

"Just go up the stairs and knock on the door. Dumbledore is in his office," said the man, motioning for the stranger to go.

Turning toward the stairs, the stranger started his small trek up to Dumbledore's office. He quickly went up the spiraling stairs, and found himself at a large wooden door. He knocked.

"Come in," came the reply of Dumbledore. The stranger took a deep, trembling breath, and took hold of the doorknob. Turning the ornate doorknob felt like opening the most important chapter in the stranger's life.

"_James?" _exclaimed a clearly shocked old man. The man was clad in a lavender robe, with beautiful silver stars and crescent moons embroidered into the garment. The man had a pure white beard almost as long as the man was tall. Topping off the appearance was the half-moon spectacles that framed the man's face.

"Who?" replied the stranger, suppressing the lump rising in his throat.

Dumbledore looked at the stranger with a melancholy expression, frowning at himself. "Excuse me," said Dumbledore, "I mistook you for someone I used to know."

"Quite alright," replied the stranger, fighting back his tears. Swallowing his sadness, the stranger got to the point. "I came to apply for a teaching position," said the stranger, straightening his posture as he looked Dumbledore in the eyes.

Dumbledore had seemed to compose himself while the stranger stated his reason for being at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling lightly in the torchlight in his office. He sent the stranger a small smile. "Before we get into the details of a teaching position here at Hogwarts, perhaps you could humor me with the details of your visit with Harry Potter, a boy whom I'm surprised you found," said Dumbledore warmly. He could clearly tell the stranger was not a malevolent person.

"I came to check on the boy. As you know, the story about Harry Potter is very vague and unknown when it comes to the aftermath of that fateful night," said the stranger, smirking strangely at something he found funny.

"Well, I assure you that Harry will be safe where he is," said Dumbledore.

"I agree," replied the stranger.

"Well, on to business," said Dumbledore, adjusting his glasses, "Mr.-"

"Alexander Redcreek," supplied the stranger.

"Mr. Redcreek, we have only one opening available for employ: Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Dumbledore, carefully examining Alexander.

"That just so happens to be my forte," said Alexander, smiling at Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling madly.

"Well, we have only two requirements: firstly, you must fill out this application," Dumbledore opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper, "And you must take a competency exam, administered at the Ministry."

Mr. Redcreek nodded.

"Well, sir, thank you for your time," said Alexander.

"I hope to see you the coming school year," said Dumbledore, getting up from his chair to hand Alexander the application form. He handed the form to Alexander, who smiled politely as he grabbed the paper.

"Good night to you, sir," said Alexander, bowing, before he turned around and went out the door. He left the room to an ecstatic Dumbledore.

'_This is very good,' _thought Dumbledore, '_Very good indeed._' He dug into his pocket and pulled out a lemon drop, and proceeded to plop it into his mouth. The old man smiled once more at the door Alexander Redcreek had just left through, then went back to his chair. Sighing to himself, he let out a laugh. He needed a laugh. Laughter was always the best medicine.

**----**

**(A/N):** Well, here we are, nearly to the jumping off point of the story. I hope we land on something soft.


	3. Anticipation

**:Harry Potter and the Dance of the Thestral:**

**:Chapter Three:**

**:Anticipation:**

**---- **

**(A/N):** Well, it's here! Yay? I think. Maybe. Okay, let's just say I finally broke through my writers block and finished this chapter. Is it good? I don't know, I didn't even proofread it. But because computers are so amazing, I did get to spellcheck it! I apparently misspelled Hogwarts, Dursley, Dumbledore, and Redcreek. But I left them there for you, the faithful reader!

Anyway, I just wanted to lay down a quick (and I mean QUICK) summary of the next few chapters so you can get that appetite whetted (or become angry at me for being mean, whatever the case may be): Ch.4-Orientation, Ch.5-Diagon Alley, Ch.6-Hogwarts Express, Ch.7-Hogwarts/Sorting/Feast/Stuff, and Ch.8-The first DADA lesson.

**----**

**_Friday, September 5th, 1997._**

_The first week of my seventh year is over, but the atmosphere throughout the school is beyond somber. With Dumbledore dead, and Harry gone, the school has become a cold, dark castle instead of the warm home I had come to love._

_Ron and I have been trying to keep the DA alive, but without Harry, it has been hard to get members to acknowledge the invitations we sent out Wednesday..._

_Harry... I still can't believe we... I let him go on his own. He said he would rather die than let me and Ron follow along with him. Ron and I both tried to convince him, but he wouldn't let it happen. I feel as if all of us, myself the most, have let him down, even though we've all done what he asked of us. I feel my resolve breaking every day without him to lead us. I see it in Ron, too. He seems to have realized how bad he had been to Harry at times. _I _have realized how bad I was to Harry at times. That fact breaks my heart, not because I have just now realized it, but because I no longer have the chance to apologize to Harry. He is gone, and none of us, his friends, can reach him. He left Hedwig with me, and only contacts Remus sparsely. I have such a dreadful nightmare, almost every night, that he will die, and we... I will never see him again. I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding loudly as I pant heavily, the events of my nightmare flashing before my eyes._

_If I could see Harry only one more time, I would tell him how much his friendship means to me. After having so much time to think about his impact in my life, I realize that he has impacted many more lives than mine in the same manner, and has helped the wizarding world in more than one way. I would tell him that he is more than his parents could have ever hoped for, prophecy or not, and that Sirius would not have been able to be more proud of him. I would run up to him and hug him as hard as I could, whispering as much encouragement into his ears as would be possible. I... I... I can't bear to think what I would do if he were to die. I can't even write about it anymore... I need to sleep..._

_Hermione Jane Granger._

**----**

Harry Potter awoke earlier than normal. He was having a strange dream about old women with pointy hats, and rugged, frail brooms. But, that dream was now in the back of Harry's mind right now. It was now 9:38 A.M., and Harry was impatiently waiting for a visitor as he sat at the kitchen table inside number 4 of Privet Drive.

Harry had turned eleven years old exactly two weeks ago. July 31st was also the day he received his Hogwarts letter. But his letter was not delivered by your average Hogwarts owl, but by the stranger whom Harry had talked to over a month before. Harry now knew the stranger by name: Alexander Redcreek. Harry preferred to call the man Alex.

As it happened, Alex had become the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. What this meant for himself, Harry wasn't sure, but he was glad to know that he would see the man often at school.

School. That was something that still seemed foreign to Harry. Add to that the fact that the school was for wizards and witches, something that Harry didn't believe in until recently, and Harry was having a hard time coming to grips with the idea. But Harry was brought back to Alex again. When Alex delivered Harry's Hogwarts letter, he had taken Harry on another walk along Privet Drive to explain what the letter meant.

"_What does this mean, sir?" asked Harry softly as he strolled alongside Alex._

"_It means you'll be coming to the best school of witchcraft and wizardry this world has ever seen," replied Alex with a smile._

"_Why should I believe you? How do I know that you aren't just playing some sort of joke on me?" questioned Harry timidly. Alex stopped and grabbed Harry by the shoulders._

"_Never think that I would hurt you Harry. You're more precious to me than you'll ever know. Which is why I'm here to explain this to you," said Alex tenderly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why don't I give you a demonstration, Harry? A little peak into the world of magic?" asked Alex. Harry nodded faintly as he inwardly wondered why Alex was so emotional over him, a small eleven year old boy._

_Seeing the response, Alex casually reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small, oak stick. It was very ridged, and it looked like he had just picked it off the ground. He took it in his right hand and held it aloft, just in front of his face._

"_Do you know what this is, Harry?" asked Alex, still concentrating on the stick inches from his face._

"_A stick... sir?" supplied Harry, who was slightly confused as to why Alex would ask such a question._

"_Not just any stick, Harry, but a wand. Now, don't be confused, because this is not a wand in the traditional wizard sense. I'm just using it as an example, since I have yet to reacquire my true wand," said Alex, his focus still held by the rugged stick in his hand._

"_Watch..." said Alex smoothly. He let his right arm back down, and held the makeshift wand lightly in his hand as it dangled above the pavement. Suddenly, his grip tightened around the rough object, and he rapidly raised his hand, the stick with it, and made a swooping gesture. Just as soon as he had done this, a group of fallen walnuts came barreling toward Harry. Shocked, Harry stood in place, his eyes wide with amazement. But Alex was not done with his demonstration. He made another gesture with his wand, this time less exaggerated, and the walnuts began to form into a pseudo-marching line, seeming to dance in front of Harry's shocked face. Believing he had shown Harry enough, Alex flicked his wand abruptly, and the dancing walnuts fell sharply to the ground, bouncing about both Alex and Harry's feet._

_There was a short moment of silence before Harry stammered and said, "I believe you, sir."_

_Alex laughed and smiled as Harry blushed. "I know you do, Harry. I made sure of that."_

Breaking out of his flashback, Harry shook his head and glanced back at his clock. It was ten till ten. Ten minutes until Alexander Redcreek would arrive and take Harry to Hogwarts' Muggle Orientation. Alex had suggested that Harry attend the orientation, even though Harry _was _born by a wizarding family. Alex told Harry that it would be a good way to understand the basics of Hogwarts.

Struggling to pass the time, Harry decided to go downstairs and get a drink from the Dursley's kitchen. The Dursleys were not home, and after Alex's first visit, Harry's living conditions had changed considerably. He now lived in Dudley's second bedroom. The room was not very large, but in comparison to the cupboard under the stairs, it was like a mansion. One week prior to this day, the room had been filled with various toys and trinkets that the Dursley's had bought for Dudley, but were now broken. Now, however, the room was spacious and clean, with very little remnants of broken toys left. Alex had come to check on Harry's home life the same day he delivered Harry's Hogwarts letter. Seeing the room filled with needless items, Alex confronted Vernon. A brief argument ensued, but was quickly ended when Alex yelled Vernon down a notch or two.

Alex had convinced, if not commanded, that Vernon sell all the now worthless items so that a profit could be made, and both Harry and Vernon could be a little happier; Vernon with a slightly fatter wallet, and Harry with a better room to himself. The plan had worked out splendidly, and Harry now had a room that he could call his own.

Lumbering down the stairs, Harry took in a deep breath as he wondered what the orientation would be like. Would there be a lot of witches and wizards there that would be as nervous as he was? Harry reached the bottom of the stairs and began the brief trek to the kitchen. His mind continued to contemplate all sorts of crazy expectations of the orientation. Walking into the kitchen, Harry playfully slid on the tile floor, his feet only accompanied by some new, woolen socks. Harry stopped playing and went up to the cupboard where his Aunt Petunia kept the glasses. Opening the cupboard, Harry took a small, cylindrical glass that had waving blue patterns of flowers emblazoned on the sides from the rest and went toward the large, white refrigerator that complemented the small kitchen. Holding the glass in his left hand, Harry took hold of the refrigerator's handle with his free hand and pulled the door open.

"What should I drink?" Harry muttered to himself, trying to take his mind off the upcoming orientation.

"There's orange juice... but that milk does look good right now... or how about milk with some chocolate syrup? That should be in here somewhere, unless Dudley guzzled it down already," said Harry absentmindedly as he rummaged through the interior of the refrigerator. Harry's musings were cut short by the shrill ring of the doorbell. Harry hurriedly shut the refrigerator door and set his glass down on the counter top before he rushed out of the kitchen and into the front hallway. Steadying his breath, Harry reached for the golden doorknob of the front door. He turned the knob to the right lightly, and heard the familiar click of the latch unfastening. He swung the door open to see Alex standing there, a faint smirk on his face.

"You answered the door quickly," said Alex, his smirk widening. Harry only gave a exasperated half laugh half sigh.

"Ready to go?" asked Alex, looking at Harry with a piercing stare. Even though the stare held no animosity, and even seemed to be a warm, friendly stare, Harry couldn't help but feel a strange chill run up his spine.

"Yeah," said Harry weakly, trying to regain his composure.

"Nervous, aren't you?" questioned Alex, although it nearly seemed like a statement instead of a question.

"Very," replied Harry curtly.

"Then let us make haste, for thy journey awaits thee, O Valiant Knight!" said Alex in a comic tone of voice. Harry wasn't sure why, but even though he didn't know Alex very well, that burst of humor made him forget all his anxieties. He was so... comfortable around Alex. Maybe it was because he was now around someone like him, someone who could use magic, or maybe it was because of Alex's attempts at improving Harry's life. Whatever it was, Harry hoped it lasted.

**----**

**(A/N): **The next chapter will be up sooner than this one was. And I couldn't have given myself a bigger chunk of time, could I? And I'd also like to mention that I would like a beta reader, because right now I'm doing absolutely everything for my stories. You might be able to tell I didn't proofread this chapter. Give a review telling me you want to be my beta and I'll contact you. **BUT BE SURE TO NOTE I WANT A GOOD BETA, AND I WILL GIVE YOU A SMALL TEST BEFORE I WILL ACCPET YOU. **Unless you show some credentials from previous beta work.

See ya next time!


	4. Hermione Granger

**::::Harry Potter and the Dance of the Thestral::::**

**::Chapter Four::**

**::Hermione Granger::**

**----**

**(A/N): **Yay! Another chapter. And, like I promised, faster than chapter three! But who's counting...? Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. This is where the story begins to pick up. And by pick up, I mean you ask yourself questions like, "Is this a Harry/Hermione story?" and "Why et cetera?" Well, let me make this clear. **There is a fifty percent (50) possibility that this story will be a Harry/Hermione pairing.**

Now, let me also make this clear: **_FUTURE HARRY/OLD HARRY (ALEXANDER REDCREEK) WILL NOT BE INVOLVED WITH PAIRINGS!!_**

In fact, Mr. Alex, aka Future Harry, did not have a romantic relationship in his time. His life was without all the fluff and flare that some would believe possible when many people want you dead. So, there will be no influence from Alex in the relationship(s) of Young Harry. He is here because of one thing: To make this time right. As long as Voldemort is gone and the war is stopped before it begins, Future Harry is happy. As far as the rest of Young Harry's life, he believes it should run whatever course it gets set upon.

Have a good read!

**----**

Harry Potter stared blankly out the car window as he and Alexander Redcreek made their trip to wherever it was they were going. Harry didn't really know where they were going, but he trusted Alex, and the Hogwarts letter he had received two weeks prior to this moment only reinforced his trust in Alex. However, no matter how excited Harry was, there was absolutely no way to stave off the insurmountable boredom that was overtaking him now. Alex had been as quiet as a mouse, not saying one word after stepping into the driver's seat. He had a focused look on his face; his brow was creased in concentration and his eyes showed deep, emotional thought in them. Harry was almost disconcerted when he first saw the look on Alex's face, but now that disconcerted feeling was drowned out by the monotonous drive that they had endured for nearly two hours. Harry was running out of things to be nervous about.

As Harry was pondering his thoughts, Alex was concentrating on driving the car in the correct lane. His thoughts were bombarding him as he kept the steering wheel steady.

'_What am I going to do? I didn't realize she took Muggle orientation! What am I going to do?' _his mind rambled as his brilliant green eyes began to shine with tears that refused to fall. He didn't want to see her so soon. It would be too much. His mind forgot to remind him that he felt this way about all his friends.

'_I can't do this. I can't. I know all I'll want to do when I see her is run up to her and never let go. I'll never stop asking her to forgive me. But she wont know what I'm talking about.' _thought Alex as he made the final turn in his and Harry's journey. Instantly, his mind cleared, and one thought reigned supreme, '_She will never know. I wont let her know. I'll never let anyone know.'_

Breaking from his thoughts, Alex looked for a parking spot close to his destination. Finding an empty parking space just a couple hundred feet away from a run-down bar called the Leaky Cauldron, Alex slowed down and parked the dark blue car. Harry took a silent, deep breath as his mind came back into focus, and all his nerves as well.

"Alright, time to get out, Harry," said Alex as he smiled at Harry struggling to unbuckle his seatbelt. "You have to wiggle it a little," said Alex, laughing. Harry flushed. Harry struggled with it just a few more seconds, and the belt released and nearly smacked Harry in the nose as it retracted into its normal position.

"Be careful, Harry, don't want to break your nose with a seatbelt and have to tell the story to all the people that ask what happened," said Alex playfully. Harry mumbled something under his breath as he opened the passenger door and stepped out.

Stretching widely, Harry yawned as he took in his urban surroundings. There were multitudes of people walking around in light jackets, all of them carrying umbrellas to fend off the sporadic rain that had been plaguing London for several days. Harry noticed that there seemed to be no children in the streets at this particular part of London. Harry absentmindedly shut the passenger door as his bright green eyes continued to scour the streets of London. Harry was brought back into focus by the sound of the driver door slamming closed. Alex stood with a bright, neon green umbrella that he was twirling around lightly.

"Need some cover, Harry?" asked Alex, walking over to the other side of the car to stop face-to-face with Harry (or rather, the front side of both their bodies were facing each other).

"I 'spose," replied Harry, looking funnily at the color of the umbrella.

"Not your favorite color, eh?" asked Alex in a mock-serious tone. Harry decided to ignore the umbrella and ask a question he had wanted to ask at the beginning of their trip.

"How many other witches and wizards will there be in the orientation?" asked Harry quickly.

'_It's time,'_ thought Alex wearily.

"Well, there's you, and me, and one witch that should be arriving shortly," said Alex as he looked Harry in the eye.

"Why are there not many witches or wizards coming to this?" asked Harry, slightly shocked.

"This is the first orientation of the month. I was lucky enough to draw the short straw," replied Alex, smiling. "Believe me, Harry, it's better to have less people in the orientation. It makes it easier to make friends before you go to school," said Alex as he motioned for Harry to follow him down the street.

"I'm sure you and the other student will be friends in no time," said Alex as he reached for the handle on the door to the bar called _The Leaky Cauldron_.

Alex turned the knob, and a sight Harry would never forget met his eyes. The bar was laid out like any other bar Harry had seen when he would catch a peek at the television while the Dursleys were occupied. But, there was something quite different about this place.

"They're all witches and wizards, aren't they, sir?" said Harry quietly, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

"That's right," said Alex quietly; he seemed to be thinking the same thing as Harry at the moment. Alex motioned for Harry to follow closely. Harry followed like a dog on a three inch leash. They both walked up to the bar and Alex waved his hand to get the attention of the bartender.

"The name's Tom, sir. How can I help you?" asked the man jovially.

"I need a table for four, please, and four butterbeers," said Alex as he handed Tom a relatively large gold coin. Tom took the coin and went out of sight behind the bar. Alex turned himself in the direction of the door and stared intently at the entrance. Harry tried to stare at the door like Alex, but his attention kept getting taken by something odd that would catch his eye. Just as Harry saw an old woman with long, black robes walk through the entrance, he heard a throat clear from behind him. Tom was back with four glasses filled with an amber liquid that was foaming at the top. Alex took two of the glasses then nodded his head signaling to Harry to grab the remaining two.

Glasses of frothy, amber-crisp liquid in their hands, Alex and Harry strolled over to an old table that looked to be on its last leg, literally. The table stood there unassumingly as any other average table, but upon further inspection, Harry noticed that there was only one leg holding up the table. And, to top it off, the leg looked like it wasn't going to last much longer. Harry assumed that magic was holding it up as he sat the two glasses that were in his hand on the flat, plain grey table. Harry involuntarily waited with baited breath for the table to topple over and spill the cool, golden contents of the four glasses sitting on top of the table. It didn't budge. Harry dared a glance at Alex, and what he saw shocked him. Alex was staring blankly in the direction of the entrance, his vibrant green eyes shining with tears. Harry broke out of his temporary shock and fixed his gaze to where Alex was staring. Instantly, Harry picked out what Alex was looking at. There were two people that had just come into the bar from the rain outside. An middle-aged woman with a young girl with brown, bushy hair were looking around the bar rapidly as the older woman retracted the dark blue umbrella that they had used for protection from the rain. Harry took another look at Alex. His eyes were now dry and he had a charming smile on his face, showcasing his sparkling white teeth. He took his right hand and lightly pulled his black hair back and gently let it fall back into place as he started toward the two people that had just entered.

"Mrs. Granger, I presume," said Alex politely, taking the woman's right hand into his own and placing a polite kiss on her hand. "And you must be Hermione," he said, taking the young girl's right hand and doing the same thing he had done to the older woman. "I'm Professor Alexander Redcreek."

**----**

Harry looked toward the bushy haired girl as she closed her eyes, lifted her glass, and took the last gulp of her butterbeer. Both Alex and Mrs. Granger had been talking nonstop for almost twenty minutes now. However, Harry and Hermione had been silent, randomly staring at things, and when they would catch themselves staring at each other, they would quickly look away and stare at the table. Harry didn't know what it was about this girl, but something was familiar about her. It was a feeling of safety and friendship, but he knew that couldn't be right. He had barely met the girl, let alone known her long enough to be her friend. As Hermione lowered her glass, her soft, brown eyes glanced toward Harry, and their eyes met for another time. This time, however, neither of them looked away. Harry saw warmth and kindness in her eyes. The swirling white orbs that seemed to be trapped in her shining eyes captivated Harry as he stared at her intently. She stared just as intently as Harry, seemingly lost in her own world. Then, without warning, Alex spoke up loudly, "I need to go to the restroom. I'll be right back, then we can begin the orientation."

Alex scooted out of his chair and walked off behind the bar and out of sight. Mrs. Granger, Hermione, and Harry were left at the table and sat silently as they waited for Alex to return. Abruptly, Mrs. Granger broke the silence, "So, Harry, is it? Where are you from?" she asked casually.

Harry, who had decided to stare at the woodgrain of the table after breaking away from Hermione's eyes, looked up at Mrs. Granger quickly. Clearing his throat, Harry said, "Uh, Surrey, ma'am."

**----**

'_This isn't right,'_ thought Alex as he paced back and forth across the restroom floor.

_'My emotions are seeping into my younger self, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say they're seeping into Hermione as well,'_ said Alex in a mental tone that would scare someone of a weaker mind.

"Dammit," mumbled Alex as he stopped and checked the gold watch on his left wrist. It had already been five minutes since he had entered the restroom. The others would be wondering about him by now. Alex went to the white porcelain sink that was right next to the restroom door and turned on the faucet. Cupping his hands together, he lowered them into the flow of ice cold water, waited for them to fill up, then splashed his face lightly, clearing his mind. Sweeping his right hand over his face, slicking back his hair ever so slightly, and adjusting his coat, he sighed exasperatedly. This would be tough, and Alex knew it. But Alex also knew his fate, and he wasn't about to let this time come into ruin.

Alex cleared his throat, looked at the small mirror above the sink and said, "Time to start."

**----**

**(A/N): **Wee!

Sorry to say this, but I'm not going to have a chapter devoted to Diagon Alley at this point in time. I don't have the energy to thoroughly research Diagon Alley for a whole chapter. So, unless I get a hundred distinct reviews saying, "WRITE DIAGON ALLEY!!11" I'm not going to. It would literally take me two months. I'm a procrastinating perfectionist. :(


	5. The First Train Ride

**:Harry**** Potter and the Dance of the ****Thestral:**

**:Chapter**** Five:**

**:The**** First Train Ride:**

**----**

**(A/N): **I profusely apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Or should I say lack of writing? Well, I'll go so far as to say absence of leisure time devoted to writing (aka I was lazy fan fiction wise for a while). Anyway, hope you enjoy. We'll see how the next chapter goes. I'm eagerly awaiting my copy of Deathly Hallows tomorrow.

**----**

_**Chronicle**_

_August 31th, 1991,_

_I've come to the conclusion that the "emotional seep" witnessed at the Leaky Cauldron is an effect of my power combined with my emotions while I'm around the past versions of my loved ones. Even further, in a very abstract concept, I have surmised that, perhaps by the magic of __thestrals__ or Father Time himself, this "past universe" is faintly intertwined with my mind. I'll file that idea away for later research, because as of right now, it serves little practical purpose. However, all assumptions aside, I've learned some important facts about the "emotional seep." The seep happens only when two or more people that I care for are around me. This seems to exclude my past self, however. My past self is still __affected__, but he is not a catalyst for the seep. With this information, I've been able to conduct some numerous experiments._

_I have learned how to control the seep when I'm around loved ones I'm acclimated to. In other words, if I've been around someone enough in this universe, Hermione, for example, I can control the seep. I can only assume this is because I've lost the feeling of shock from seeing someone I love again. I've been attempting to train myself for better control, but I'm still fearful about the Sorting Feast. I'll see more than just a few loved ones that night. _

_Now, to more pressing matters._

_My past self (who, from now on, I will refer to as Harry while I am chronicling) and Hermione have bonded in a good friendship already. Whether their friendship was pushed along by my emotional seep or by their early encounter, I'm not sure. What concerns me at the moment is Ron. If Harry doesn't make a good friendship with Ron, then there will be serious repercussions. My only hope is that Harry isn't so protective of Hermione that he dismisses Ron and his innocent prejudices. If that happens, I'll have some work cut out for me._

_Another thing that worries me is __Voldemort__. Thus far, he hasn't shown his face, in his ethereal form or as __Quirrell__. Not only is this extremely troubling, it's perplexing too. By now, just a mere __day away from the start __of __term, I would have expected __Voldemort__ to attempt a bodily takeover. Now, however, I fear that something unknown may be happening. However, in the scheme of things, this may be good for my overall plan. As I've noted before, I plan to have Harry defeat __Voldemort__, and not do it myself. I don't believe it would be fair to deprive Harry of the experience he will gain._

_But..._

_I will not allow harm to come to my loved ones. I may not destroy __Voldemort__ myself, but I will prevent all of his attempts against my loved ones. This promise, of course, allows me to dispose of some of __Voldemort's__ Death Eaters. Other than protection, however, I will not lay a finger on __Voldemort__, purposefully. As bland as that statement may sound, I can do nothing but use all of my ability to keep to my word._

_Finally, to end this Chronicle entry, I'll state my concerns about __Albus_

_He is surprisingly accepting. I can tell that he believes me to be good and that he senses no malice in my being, but I don't think even those reassurances can curb his curious nature. I don't believe it possible to tell anyone of my origins, and I don't believe it necessary, either. However, I need to come up with a concrete alibi for my existence, and that is no easy feat._

_End Chronicle 102._

_Harry James Potter._

**----**

"Harry!" yelled a bushy haired girl as she set down a large book. She was standing next to a large luggage cart that held several trunks. Her cry echoed throughout the platform as the continuous, burning sound from the large train across the platform kept up a monotonous beat. The girl's cry was finally heard by its intended recipient, and a pale, lanky boy with raven black hair and startling green eyes looked in her direction. The boy smiled, then he ran over to the girl; his body rushed past the many sections of the train stationed at the platform. The main car was bright red, and on the front it read "Hogwarts Express."

Harry Potter had never been so happy in his life. He was away from the Dursleys, was about to go to Hogwarts, the wizarding school that his parents had attended, and he had an amazing new friend. He smiled faintly as he looked straight into Hermione Granger's eyes. She was amazing fun. Alex had arranged for both of them to get together before the school term started so they could each have a friend before they went to school. Harry and Hermione clicked together like two pieces to a two-piece puzzle. Hermione was intelligent and nervous; Harry was adventurous and bold. Both of them enjoyed learning about Hogwarts together just as much as they enjoyed playing in the park. Harry wanted to learn more about his parents by learning about the school, and Hermione wanted to do something outside with her friend. Hermione wouldn't tell Harry one of her secrets for many years, but one secret was that Harry was her first, true friend.

A whistle sounded the arrival of their third and final companion, Alex. Alex, or rather, Professor Redcreek, had become a fast friend with Harry and Hermione, visiting them almost every day. He had apparently taken a liking to visiting them, because he never failed to smile while he was with them. Now, however, compared to the many other times Harry and Hermione had seen him, he looked clean, calm, and composed. He no longer held the familiar twinkle in his green eyes; his eyes held a certain mystery and anticipation about them right now. Despite the appearance of his eyes, however, he still managed to crack a wry smile at Harry and Hermione.

"Good morning, Harry, Hermione," he said, nodding slightly as he went to the front of the train, obviously looking for the conductor.

Time seemed to speed up to an unbelievable level, and Harry found himself scouring the cars of the Hogwart's Express for an open compartment to sit in. Hermione and Professor Redcreek were behind him, following his lead. Finally, after ten minutes of searching, he found an empty compartment.

"This'll do, right?" Harry asked, turning around to face Hermione and Alex.

"Quite well, I'm sure," said Alex, a large smile on his face.

Harry, taking Alex's approval as a signal to go into the compartment, opened the door and sauntered in, acting like he was extremely tired. Hermione laughed at his obvious attempt to grab attention. Alex, however, had paused outside the door and was looking down the corridor.

He was staring at a red-headed boy that was skulking down the corridor. The boy was tall for his age (though one could tell that he was a first year student), and he had almost innumerable freckles peppering his face.

"Hello," said Alex, smiling at the boy. The boy, startled, stopped in his tracks and stared at Alex blankly.

"Err – I – I'm fine, sir," squeaked the boy, finding his voice quickly. The tops of his ears began to blush. Alex laughed heartily. He motioned for the boy to come closer, then, after the boy had done so, Alex bent down and whispered something into his ear. Quickly, the boy nodded.

Alex reentered the room with the red haired boy in tow. Taking a seat next to Hermione, Alex smiled at Harry and said, "Harry, Hermione, this young man is Ronald Weasley."

"Please, call me Ron; only my mum calls me Ronald," said Ron quickly, his ears shining with a magnificent crimson. Harry laughed.

**----**

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Alex talked with each other the entire train ride to Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione immediately enjoyed Ron's company, partly because he had so much information about the wizarding world, but, most importantly, he was nice, fun, and friendly.

Harry occasionally pinched himself surreptitiously when the others weren't looking, checking to make sure he was really awake and that he was in reality. At first, he was surprised that he didn't wake up, but that discovery led to a great elation within him, and a smile was brought to his face.

But that smile was to be cut short by the awe that was about to engulf him and his like-aged companions. A voice came from within the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

"Well, that's my call to leave. You three stay here. I'll see you at Hogwarts soon," said Alex with a charming smile as he sat up.

"Hey, Alex," called Harry, "can I ask you something… alone?"

"By all means, Harry," replied Alex. Harry took Alex's left sleeve and pulled him through the compartment door. Once outside, Harry shut the door quickly and turned toward Alex.

"Alex, why are you being so nice to me?" asked Harry, timidly.

Alex sighed. "Isn't it obvious, Harry? You're a special kid, and not just because you are the Boy-Who-Lived," he said.

"Boy-Who-Lived?" asked Harry, confused.

"I haven't mentioned it, but have no doubts that you will be stared at while in school. Haven't you ever wondered where you got your scar? There has always been a story behind that, and it will never be forgotten," said Alex, almost with a tear in his eye.

"Just remember, don't worry about it. It isn't important yet. I'll be coming to you when it is important, and you'll know it, believe me" continued Alex, regaining his warm composure.

"Ok…" replied Harry, still confused, but there was something about this discussion that gave Harry a chill. He dismissed it.

"You should get ready to leave for the school. Go back in there with your friends," said Alex with a large smile. That broke Harry out of his thoughts, and he quickly nodded and went back into the compartment.

'_This will take some time_' thought Alex as he went down the train's corridors to the exit.

**(A/N):** Well, I think I'll be keeping this updated more regularly. It will probably be one to three times a month, so, don't expect rapid, amazingly fast updates. Anyway, hope all of you enjoy the Deathly Hallows. And, thanks to the few of you readers who made me realize I hadn't updated for such a long time.


	6. Multifarious

**::::Harry Potter and the Dance of the Thestral::::**

**::Chapter**** Six::**

**::Multifarious::**

**----**

**(A/N): **I would have to say this is the fastest chapter I've written yet. And, it was delayed a week or so by beta-fying and my initial laziness to go along with the suggestions from beta-fying. Not saying that I didn't agree or find the remarks helpful, just that I was lazy about implementing them.

This chapter is like some sort of pseudo-filler that I concocted to make things mesh better, as well as give me a suitable base for the coming chapters. And thus, the chapter name was born, not really for the story's benefit, but for the benefit of the readers and myself. Anyway, enough of my AN ramblings. Enjoy the story!

_**Extreme gratitude is given to 7eAL, my beta. Here's to more awesome beta-**__**ing**_

**----**

Harry sat next to Ron and Hermione in the little boat, taking in the breathtaking view. Across the way, he could see the reflection of an enormous castle, lit up like a Halloween decoration, ripping on the water. He glanced around at the other boats, with their large lanterns dangling precariously on the bows, looking for the figure that had greeted him when he had stepped off the train. It didn't take long to spot the dimly illuminated figure among the many boats floating toward their destination.

The figure was an extremely large, bushy-haired man. He had spotted Harry quickly while he was calling for the first years to follow him. Harry remembered the spark of fear that struck him when he saw the overly large hand reach down to shake his own. But Harry could tell that Hagrid was a very good natured fellow. He looked sad when he saw Harry, and he had whispered something in Harry's ear that made him all the more curious about this castle.

But now Harry's excitement and awe had turned to dread. He had already tasted what Alex was talking about while getting off the train. Hagrid had said it himself. Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived. He didn't understand why he never read about it, on his own or with Hermione, but it didn't seem to matter now. The cat was out of the bag, so it seemed. Now all the things Alex had done made sense, thought Harry, as the boats began to slow down gradually.

'_The hat at Diagon Alley, the stare Alex had given Ollivander. Had he told Hermione and Ron not to say anything, too?_' thought Harry, now beginning to be more troubled as the boats came to a sudden halt. It shocked Harry back into reality.

"All right, firs' years, time teh get off and follow me," came the somewhat booming call of Hagrid, now standing on the rough bank where the boats had cautiously collided. Harry didn't recall going under anything, but the mass above them, whatever it was, had completely obscured the stars, but, when Harry looked back at Ron and Hermione's faces (both sharing the look of excitement and dread Harry felt), he could see the rest of the water that the boats had smoothly traversed, some without reflection of the area above them, but just further off, a large patch that was readily reflecting Hogwarts and the stars in the sky. Harry was broken out of his thoughts by a sharp tug on his cloak.

"C'mon, Harry," hissed Hermione, looking like she was expecting to be immensely reprimanded. Harry could see why, as both Hermione and he were still in their boat while the rest of the students were following Hagrid and his lamp; Harry saw Ron at the end of the line, staying behind to see what Harry and Hermione were doing, nervous glances flipping his spottily illuminated hair, making faux sparks appear.

Harry and Hermione hurried out of the boat and sprinted toward Ron, who looked grateful that he wouldn't be as far behind as the others. As soon as they met up with the rest of the first years, they were now traipsing across wet grass, coming ever closer to the castle. The castle was now like an immense monolith before the 11-year-olds, giving no mercy to the imagination as the shadowy keep gave off a sense of awe and respect. Harry thought it would be scarier if there were no lights coming from inside, but, thankfully, it seemed like all the lights were on. Harry barely noticed the line ahead of them, now stationary behind Hagrid. They were at the front door.

"Everyone here?" asked Hagrid.

Taking the silence as a 'yes,' Hagrid knocked on the door, three times. The door opened immediately, revealing a person that Harry suspected to be very strict. It was a tall, black-haired woman, dressed in emerald robes.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door open more than before, revealing the entrance hall, a massive architectural cavern. Sighs and gasps could be heard from among the first years, Harry included. The ceiling was hard to see, and the marble staircase that led to other floors only added to the grandiosity of the hall.

The students continued to follow Professor McGonagall, who led them into a small area just outside the hall; many voices could be heard beyond a door, most likely the rest of the students and faculty.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. That was the last thing Harry remembered Professor McGonagall saying. At that moment, he was struck by an incredibly horrible pain in his forehead. It felt like something was to burst out of his skull. If Harry was lucid enough to think about what could be wrong, he may have begged for that thought to be a reality, but lucidity was away from his grasp as he collapsed to his knees, his hands covering his forehead as he screamed in pain.

"Harry? Harry!" cried Hermione as she saw the ordeal unfold before her eyes. She quickly ran in front of him and kneeled down, putting her arms on his shoulders. Ron stood by with a panicked look on his face, unsure of what to do.

"What is the meaning of this?" came the call of Professor McGonagall as she went through the tightly grouped crowd of 11-year-olds. When she saw Harry, however, she quickly changed the look on her face from that of reprimand to worry.

"Stay here, all of you," she said loudly as she spun around and hurried toward the door that emanated the many voices.

She burst through the doors, and ran down the hall, ignoring the chattering crowd of students.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Dumbledore looked anxiously at Professor McGonagall, as did the rest of the staff. The pleading look in Professor McGonagall's eyes cause Dumbledore to stand up from the staff table and hurry toward the middle of the hall where Professor McGonagall had stopped.

"Something is wrong with Harry," McGonagall whispered into Dumbledore's ear, causing Dumbledore's twinkling eyes to falter. He rushed toward the now open doors where first years could be seen standing around Harry while he screamed. The Great Hall was silent; the animated chatter of the students had been diffused by this strange happening. Dumbledore was not supposed to look upset.

Dumbledore's star-speckled robe bustled quickly, matching his swift movements incredibly well; all of the students were amazed at the speed of the old wizard. Dumbledore reached the crowd of first years while the rest of the staff was bustling to follow Dumbledore. Harry's screams began to increase in volume as the teachers came closer.

'_Why? Why? Why is this happening to me?_' was the only thought coursing through Harry's mind. He was immobile, paralyzed by pain. It felt like a sledgehammer was being slammed against the inside of his skull, in rhythm with his heartbeat. He wasn't going to be able to stand much more of this, he knew it. Something had to change, and quickly.

"Headmaster, what's wrong with him," came the cool voice of Snape who was watching Harry with surprise.

"I don't know, Severus, but we must discover the problem quickly or I'm afraid Mr. Potter will suffer irreparable damage," replied Dumbledore, worry continuing to creep into his normally confident stature. "Fetch Madam Pomfrey!" he yelled as Harry started to seize, Dumbledore holding him gently against the cold stone as Harry flailed.

At the staff table, one person remained seated, staring blankly into the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Was this his first trial, the first test of this new chance? Did this mean that Voldemort was attempting something different, something new? He didn't know, but he would find out. He stood up from the table and began his trek toward the screaming and flailing Harry.

As Alex reached the group of first years and teachers, Madam Pomfrey came dashing down the hall with Snape. Pomfrey took one look at Harry and said, "Bring him to the infirmary, quickly!" Alex seized his opportunity and snatched up Harry as he continued to thrash about. Quickly slinging Harry over his right shoulder, Alex followed Madam Pomfrey as they both sprinted toward the infirmary, Harry's now-limp arms bobbing up and down in pace with Alex's footsteps.

**----**

"Harry?" whispered a voice. Harry didn't recognize it, but he was somehow comforted by its soft resonance. It was a man's voice, for sure, but it had an odd, motherly appeal to it. Harry tried opening his eyes, but as soon a glint of light shown through the infinitesimal opening between his eye lids, Harry's body shook with sharp pain. He quickly clamped his eyes shut, and the pain stopped. After experiencing that pain, however, Harry was made aware of other pains throughout his body. He could feel his throat, ragged and worn on the inside, a painful tickle constantly in the back of his throat. His head throbbed consistently with his heartbeat, mostly focused around his scar. His knees felt sore and bruised. What had happened?

"Harry, if you can hear me, just nod," came the same soothing voice, a bit louder than the first time. Harry nodded slightly as he focused on the pains of his body.

"Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore; I'm the Headmaster of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"What happened to me," rasped Harry as he struggled to keep his cool.

"You collapsed while Professor McGonagall was introducing the first years to Hogwarts. It seems that something caused you incredible pain, and you screamed for a long time while the rest of us scrambled about trying to fix the problem. Unfortunately, no one in this school knows what happened. It was nearly like you were under the force of a specific Dark Curse, but there is evidence that it was not," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry, even though Harry was oblivious to all of his surroundings.

"He's awoken, Albus?" came a much more familiar voice. It was Alex. Something swelled within Harry's chest at the thought of Alex, something he couldn't understand. But Harry didn't care at that moment, he just wanted to see Alex, see his face.

"Alex," said Harry, his throat still ragged from his profuse screaming. Alex came over to Harry's left side, across from Dumbledore, and put his right hand on Harry's forehead. Harry gasped in pain as his scar felt aflame. Alex took his hand away, slower than Harry would have liked, but quick nonetheless.

"I think it's his scar," said Alex, seeming to talk to himself rather than Harry or Dumbledore.

"I had thought as much, especially after he clung to his forehead like his life depended on it," said Dumbledore, looking at Alex somewhat strangely. Alex knew what the look was; how was he supposed to do this without rousing much suspicion?

"What about my scar?" asked Harry who had now fought through his pain enough to open his eyes and sit up.

"Let us worry about that right now," commented Dumbledore. "You still have to be Sorted, and we don't have much time before the rest of the school becomes impatient."

"I don't think I can walk, sir, my body still hurts a lot," said Harry as he looked at Dumbledore pleadingly. Dumbledore wore a strange frown as if he was having unusual thoughts, but his frown soon turned into a smirk as he sat up from the stool he was sitting on.

"Well, then, I think I can arrange for you to be Sorted here in the Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore airily as he walked away toward the doors.

"Well, I'll be right back Harry. Try not to overextend yourself," said Alex comfortingly. He turned away from Harry and followed Dumbledore's path of exit.

Harry sighed as he waited for the two mysterious wizards to return. What did this all mean for him? Harry didn't know, but he felt much more uneasy than when he was on the Hogwart's Express. Maybe it was just a misguided feeling, but he knew something was wrong, somewhere. He could _feel_ it, deep within him, but he couldn't describe it to himself, and he knew that it wouldn't be any better if he knew what it was, either.

"Maybe I'll just relax and get some sleep," whispered Harry, talking to himself. He lay back down and closed his eyes, hoping for a good rest. He needed it.

**----**

**(A/N): **Some strange things can be found here if you look closely (my beta, **7eAL, The Beta of Greatness**, had some interesting questions, some of which I had thought about, and a few that I had only thought about just a _smidge_), but this chapter is fairly straightforward. Plot twists, character development, straying from canon (like any good AU should), and the general setup of heartbreaking cliffhangers. The strange occurrences that you may notice are duly noted, so don't ask as if you expect an answer P. I'll be answering through my story, unless you ask a question that doesn't hold sway to the plot.

Here's to the next chapter, the one where I get to spend endless time writing thought-provoking dialogue and character development. I'm excited. But school starts tomorrow, so, it's going to be more delayed than recent updates (this chapter, actually, since it's the only recent one). 'Til then!


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